Mar. Man.
Van. Let 'em alone; my life for one.
Gos. Nay come, If you have will.
Hub. None to offend you, I, Sir.
Gos. He that had, thank himself: not hand her? yes Sir,
And clasp her, and embrace her; and (would she
Now go with me) bear her through all her Race,
Her Father, Brethren, and her Uncles, arm'd,
And all their Nephews, though they stood a wood
Of Pikes, and wall of Canon: kiss me Gertrude,
Quake not, but kiss me.
Van. Kiss him, Girl, I bid you;
My Merchant Royal; fear no Uncles: hang 'em,
Hang up all Uncles: Are not we in Bruges?
Under the Rose here?
Gos. In this circle, Love, Thou art as safe, as in a Tower of Brass; Let such as do wrong, fear.
Van. I, that's good, Let Wolfort look to that.
Gos. Sir, here she stands,
Your Niece, and my beloved. One of these titles
She must apply to; if unto the last,
Not all the anger can be sent unto her,
In frown, or voyce, or other art, shall force her,
Had Hercules a hand in't: Come, my Joy,
Say thou art mine, aloud Love, and profess it.
Van. Doe: and I drink to it.